Sweets!
by peaceandlove23
Summary: Five times Balin caught Dwalin trying to steal from the biscuit jar, and the one time Dwalin succeeded. Will be Multichaptered and movie!verse mainly with sprinkles of bookverse here and there.
1. Chapter 1

**Trying my hand at one of these fives times (something) and one time(something) things. Not good enough to make it all in a one-shot, and I was a bit pressed for time, so it's going to be a multichapter type event.**

**The Hobbit characters, places, etc. belong to J. R. R. Tolkien and film rights go to P. Jackson and associates.**

**Thanks for reading!**

* * *

Balin cursed under his breath. Surely he was needed elsewhere! Had Father not put the idea forth he'd be doing something useful! Or if it had only been Father who asked, then he would have tried to show him reason.

But it is different with one's Father, than one's King!

'There are many young Dwarves who would like nothing more than to take up their sword and your place.'

'To be sure King Thrain. I thank you!'

Balin had rarely regretted the closeness of his familial line to that of the Durin's, however distant it was, and the closeness of his father and the King. But training the eldest Prince was not the most desirable...plainly the young dwarf did not want to do it!

It was an unspoken secret Prince Thorin was a little brat! Perhaps not brat, but he seemed aware (despite his young age) that really only his Mother and Father could punish him severely (and Balin was of the opinion this didn't happen enough! Though he saw the young Prince become calm and obedient once the King' s eyes were upon him, which was more infuriating.*), even his tutors had a limited authority over him.

But then Dwalin was encouraged to train alongside! His little brother could be quite the trouble maker alone, and the two beardlings' puckishness seemed to intensify once with each other! Close to the same age, with Thorin only a bit older, it was a miracle if one could keep them still for anything!

And now, having lost them, Balin would have liked nothing more than to leave. Just to leave and let whoever may find them.

How had it happened? He was helping Dwalin with his stance...looked to check on the Prince, and saw he was gone...then when he turned back to his brother the little menace was also missing. They were fast, and had probably conspired beforehand.

He saw glimpses of them here and there, black locks of hair ducking behind a corner, and giggling when his back was turned! And now they were gone completely!

"I will take both over my knee and threaten to do worse if they tell!" The young dwarf seethed out loud.

He stopped. There was a crash close by, and the unmistakable sound of a child's wailing. Two, actually.

Following the crying, Balin found himself in one of the kitchens, and eventually in front of the two troublemakers.

A stool overturned, pots and pans scattered all around, and in the middle of it all sat two little dwarflings, screaming their hearts out and faces moist with tears.

Thorin had a hand to the back of his head and was rubbing it tentatively, screaming "Mama! Mama! Maaammmaaa!"

Dwalin was rubbing his arm and when he saw his brother, automatically held his arms out, calling his name with as much force as his friend. Despite his personal opinion that the two were overreacting for their age, Balin picked Dwalin up and sat him on a nearby counter.

Then hurried to Thorin, who began crying more loudly when he saw his playmate had received comfort, and sat him next to Dwalin.

Putting a hand over both their mouths, which silenced them, Balin commanded to two to let him have a look.

He lowered Thorin's little paw, and moved the midnight locks back to see his head. A somewhat...er, medium-ish knot had formed. Well...it wasn't bleeding.

"Oh, your fine! Just a little bump."

"I want Mama!" The little Prince cried, eyes and cheeks wet with tears and his little hand held on to the elder Dwarf's sleeve tightly as he said so.

"Oh, you'll be fine!" He assured, moving to Dwalin. His little brother's arm had a small bruise on it, but that was all.

"You're fine!"

"Nooo, 'm not!" Was the tearful retort.

"Yes you are! Both of you. What happened here anyway?"

Dwalin pointed to the shelf above the mess of pot and pans, and Balin almost laughed. There sat a full biscuit jar, on the top shelf. Dwalin was always trying to discreetly get into the one at their dwelling, and must have convinced Thorin to try the same.

In their own dwelling, the jar was only so high up, his little brother needed only one chair to reach. They must have tried to balance on the stool and found it wasn't enough, hence all the spilt cookery.

Balin looked back at the duo. No impish sneers, or puckish looks. No rebellious glares or planning stares, only tear-stained cheeks, wide and wet eyes, and pouting little mouths. They both looked so little and heart-broken and, and...blast it!

The elder dwarf went to the shelf and after successfully balancing on the stool, retrieved the jar.

"Did you two learn your lesson?" He asked.

They nodded.

"And what was that, then?"

They looked to one another blankly, and then back to Balin.

"You should listen to your elders and not try to run from your training lessons!"

They both nodded in understanding.

"Sorry, Balin." Dwalin uttered.

"Sorry."

"Glad to hear...and just for that, I won't tell Father." He said, then to Thorin, "Or the King."

His little brother held his arms out, eyes still wide. Balin put the jar aside and covered his little sibling in a forgiving embrace. Then pulled in the little Prince, who looked ready to start crying again when he saw himself receiving no hug.

Letting go, the elder Dwarf then took up the jar and pulled two biscuits and passed them out. "Next time it will do better for you lads to simply ask."

They nodded, mouths full.

* * *

*** I love the idea of Thorin being a mean little kid XD Don't judge me interweb!**

**Reviews always welcome! =)**


	2. Chapter 2

******Many thanks, and lots of love!**

******The Hobbit characters, places, etc. belong to J. R. R. Tolkien and film rights go to P. Jackson and associates.**

* * *

How had he become so ill? Seeing how the Prince returned with his good health.

Thorin had learned to elude and escape the eyes of his Father's escorts long ago, and the young dwarf often did so for hours at a time. From the cornors of Dale or the woodlands beyond Erebor's gate, whether to hunt, practice, or simply for a bit of fun, and as always Dwalin stood behind him.

The youth respected him as though he had already been given Kingship.

The lads had a tendency to disappear for hours, and both would return perfectly willing to surrender to their fate.

Such was the case the previous day, and when the day grew to night both fathers began to consider sending out searchers. Balin convinced his own to let him seek the rascals out alone, which proved to be good for he found them. They had gone to Dale, a good guess on Balin's part, and were entertaining some fellows in a pub, Thorin dressed in the spare clothes of his friend.

As always, they agreeded to come home, and faced the expected punishment with grace (and knowing more was to come the next day), but it seemed Dwalin must have picked up something from the human city.

Waking the following morning, and stumbling til he fell over, once out of bed. Face hot, and hands cold and unable to speak without giving himself a headache. Balin was ready to assume it was the result of too much drinking the previous night, but admitted along with Father that the young Dwarf would be unable to do any good outside the dwelling, so he stayed that day.

Two days later Dwalin was worse, though the doctor assured them he would live. But they had given him medicine, and confined him to bed. And Balin had been confined to his side.

He now had his own duties in Erebor! But Father reminded him Dwalin was not likely to take the medicine if left alone. He was unlikely to take it with or without Balin there, stubborn! Indeed he had managed to resist that morning, and Father's departing words were to try and get some in him.

Of all things, staying by his brother's sickbed...

"I hope this will keep you in Erebor for sometime. Serves you right, running off!" He muttered angerliy sitting next to his brother's bed.

"Not now, Balin." Was the weak reply.

"And worrying Father like you did, though he'd never admit it-"

"Please Brother, later?"

Balin sighed, then wondered out loud why Thorin seemed well. They had inquired after the Prince once it was clear Dwalin was sick, and he was in good health. Well, as good as he could be. Dís implied their Father was taking a stand this time against his eldest. Not sure what that meant, but Balin assumed the Prince would think several times over before running off again.

"Still serves you right." The elder repeated

"Hm."

"And I'm sure Thorin is getting his now."

"Hmmph."

"Honestly, Brother, I wish you would both would not do this now."

"Ugh!"

Balin said no more. He rose and walked round the room a moment, then noticed the bottle of medicine was gone. It was on the table beside the bed this morning. He didn't remember taking it out.

"Did Father take the medicine bottle with him?"

No answer.

"Dwalin!"

"Mmm!"

"What happened to the medicine bottle?"

"Don't know." He whined.

Balin sighed and stood up from the bedside. "Don't go anywhere!" He teased, receiving another grunt in reply. He stood outside the room, and tried to remember if Father had said anything about returning to the healers for more. No he couldn't have the thing was still quite full this morning.

"Get back in bed!" He called behind him. His brother's bed creaked something awful whenever one shifted their weight towards the edge on it. There was no answer, but the creaking ceased. Balin turned back, his brother had pulled the blanket over him.

He went to their front room, perhaps Father had taken the bottle absent mindedly this morning, set it down when he saw the thing in his hand. But there was no sign of it, each table, shelf and the mantle was empty.

He went back to Dwalin's room and it was vacant. The blanket falling on the floor, as though it had tried to go after him. Even when he's ill he couldn't stay put! Perhaps this was a sign he was getting better.

The elder brother sighed, and bent to pick the blanket up. What was that? Something under the bed? He reached, and felt some sort of glass end. It was the medicine. The glass bottle was as full as he remembered, and thankfully the cork had stayed in place, and it showed no signs of cracking.

"Dwalin!" He stood up and called, "Father might think you're too old to be taken over his lap, but I don't!"

He predicted the kitchen would be a good place to look for him...on a hunch, of course, of course. The medicine in hand as though he was brandishing a weapon, the elder Dwarf was glad to see his "hunch" was correct.

"Ah! Put that back!" He boomed, causing his brother to jump, but obey him nonetheless. He had been attempting to snatch a biscuit of all things! His hand had been in the jar, and guilt clouded his eyes as it had when he was younger, and had attempted (many times) the same feat.

Then the guilt turned to tiredness when he saw what Balin held in his hand. With a defeated look, he sat at the table, head in hand.

"You're much too old for this!" Balin added. "And if you wanted a biscuit, you could have asked, assuming you can keep it in your gullet longer than two minutes."

A nod, eyes hopeful.

"Alright."

Balin pulled the treat from the jar, and set it on a plate. Then uncorked the medicine bottle and poured some of the dark syrupy medicine on the biscuit, and set it in front of the terrified little brother.

* * *

**To be honest, I'm not too happy with this, I kept having trouble with the prose and...it just didn't turn out the way I wanted. **

**Thanks for reading and feel free to review! =)**


	3. Chapter 3

**I know this is suppose to be humor, but I've had horrible writer's block, and a million other things that I _really _need to give some love, but I didn't want to get too behind on this also, and and and...ohhhh!**

**The Hobbit characters, places, etc. belong to J. R. R. Tolkien and film rights go to P. Jackson and associates.**

* * *

They were quiet. It had been decades, but the brothers felt it as harshly, this one day, as they had before.

The dwelling was silent save the small fire that cracked and spit small embers. They sat together, the day over, and their minds filled with memories. The night before it had been of a home, a kingdom of gold that was now far and away.

Tonight it was of a father, who had left his sons the day after and whose injuries had been far too severe. There had not been time get the proper supplies, and there had been too many injured. What they did carry had to be used on the young, and those who could heal. And so Fudin passed, with them at his side. His final words of their mother.

He would not wish them to mourn after all these decades. Balin looked to Dwalin, his brother's eyes kept to the fire. He had been young, not a child and not a youth either, but young. To his brother at an rate.

Balin began to search his mind for something cheerful and pleasant. Before Erebor's fall. Before Father had passed.

"He was a strong a dwarf as any. As any younger than him."

"Aye." Dwalin answered stotically.

"When Mother passed...he learned quickly how care for little ones." He tried to sound light, earning only an odd look from his brother. Dwalin had been a small thing when their Mother passed, though he claimed to have some memory of her (and indeed could recall certain things of her).

"Do you recall the day you-" Dwalin had that annoyed look that usually clouded his brow when Balin recalled his infanthood, or anything from his youth, but Balin ingored him-"first...actually you probably don't do you?"

"Balin..." He rolled his eyes.

"I'll tell you then!"

He grunted, annoyed but thankfully they were alone.

"Oh, you were such a tiny thing Brother! Still bare on your chin. I can't recall why Father was home that day...I had been to young to do anything useful, so in those days I was usually watching you (goodness what trouble you gave me) but on this day Father had been with us.

"He had quite a time juggling us both! Poor man, well I managed to distract him for some time, this was before I-well you understand."

Dwalin rubbed his temples. This would take a while.

"I had distracted Father, and he was sure he had a strong grip on you, but by the time he turned his back to you-I think he had been trying to feed you-you were out of his arms! Aye, oh he looked nearly panicked he did. Huh, you also left your nappy behind when you fled!" He finished with a laugh.

"Balin!"

"Anyway, he began looking everywhere for you. Under the furniture, in the corners. But not a minute after you disappeared, I saw you, ha, you had pushed a chair high enough to climb up to that old biscuit jar we had! Oh, you should have seen Father when I pointed it out to him!

"He ran and scooped you up, had quite a time trying to get you decent looking agian, and began telling you to never do that, and how dangerous it was, and so on. Ahaha! Oh you worried him."

Dwalin only rolled his eyes. Then after a moment's silence he asked, "Brother, if he was trying to get me to eat, then why weren't we in the kitchen?"

"Hmm?"

"You made it sound as if we were somewhere else, besides the kitchen."

"Yes, we were."

Dwalin layed his hands out in front of him.

"You went through this habit, when you didn't like to eat in the kitchen. Really, we'd put you in there, put a plate infront of you. You'd just glare at it, arms crossed and all. Why I remember once, Mother was still with us, you swatted your plate clear across the room, and then somehow worked out of your chair. We found you scowling under the table-"

"I was just wanting to know why we weren't in the kitchen that day!" He interrupted.

"Yes, well, that's why...You were always trying to get at that biscuit jar, you were. I guess things don't change." He teased.

"How do you mean?" Dwalin snapped, but an unashamed grin on his face. The first in what seemed like years to Balin.

"Yesterday!"

"Aye?"

"I saw you eyeing the thing!"

"That's not the same as-"

"You were thinking about it!" Balin then let out a deep belly laugh, and as a result found himself tackled to the floor, though this did nothing to differ his laughter.

Soon both brothers were laughing and wrestling, and trading memories of a more happier time.

* * *

**Sorry it's so short, but like I said I've gotten behind on a million things. Next one will be more upbeat. ;) Many thanks for reading**!


End file.
